A Fatal Fumble
by dorcas
Summary: Angel runs into some serious trouble this time, and ends up on the run, so it's up to Casey, April and Raph to decide what to do with her before she takes off on them, too.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own TMNT, Peter Laird and Kevin Eastman do, or at least they created it all. I honestly dunno who owns it anymore from the way the whole style of the concept has changed. Seriously, have any of you seen the Back to the Sewers thing? As if they needed a continuation of that Fast Forward crap! I digress.

This fic is something I'd been thinking about for a while but because it's such a corny idea I didn't think anyone would read it. Then I realized, nobody reads my fics anyway, so I might as well. Angel has more screentime than Mona Lisa but somehow has less fanfics about her, and I think this is sad. Ergo, this. I realize it's SUCH a Mary-Sue sort of situation, but you know, I can make Angel as Mary-Sueish as I want since she has such little screentime! HA! Whether I complete this or not depends on how many hits and reviews I get, of course.

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American football wasn't all that, in Casey's opinion. He was more of an ice hockey sort of guy. Still, anything that involved a bunch of sweaty muscle-bound men constantly disregarding mercy rules in favor of staging a vicious contest of strength was his kind of game. This genre encompassed wrestling, ice hockey, and to an extent, football. He didn't like football as much because it had more strategy to it.

Anyway, there was a footbal game coming up that was sure to be good; it was personal, Cowboys vs. Giants. Casey figured a match with this much tension about it ought to be watched with friends who had appreciation for such sophisticated entertainment. Therefore, he left two messages; one to his four favorite pals, and one... to a certain April O'Neil. Okay, so he wasn't sure she'd prefer to spend her free time watching the game, but he'd sorted through his stuff and uncovered one of his mom's precious chick flicks, just in case.

Suprisingly enough, April actually did come, with a bag of chips and sarcasm in tow. She bustled in past his wide-eyed welcome and plucked a bowl from his cupboard without looking inside. "Before you ask, I'm not rooting for either of them, or at least I'm not telling which one I _do _like."

"Aw, I shoulda known. Well whatever. I'll find out during the game. Where're the guys? They coming or what?"

She busied herself with pouring the chips. "Leo called and said he probably wouldn't be able to make it, which means he'd rather train. He also said Don was near a breakthrough with one of his new inventions, and Mikey had just gotten his hands on a new video game, so he'll be as good as comatose till Tuesday."

"Geez, they're all flakin' out on me!" He flopped onto the couch.

"But Raph might come," she added. Then she snapped her fingers, remembering something. She gave a luminous smile. "For now, House is on." She swiped up the remote as he protested. "Don't worry, it ends before the game starts."

Casey crossed his arms huffily as she sat primly next to him. "I don't see what the point of the show really is, anyway. I mean, it's just about this old fart who's s'possed ta be good at curing people who whine a lot, right?"

"No, that's not at all what it's about. You don't even give it a chance."

"I don't need ta give it a chance ta see that it's a bogus series, not to mention booori--"

Just then, there was an insistent knocking at the door. Casey brightened. "That's prolly Raph now." He stood with a slap to his leg and strode to the door. "Weird, he usually comes in through the window. Something to do with ninja stealth or whatever."

But when he opened the door, it wasn't the grouchy turtle in a long, baggy, concealing outfit meant to divert suspicious eyes; it was Angel.

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Angel was glad she had predicted rightly he would be at home for the upcoming game. She had been getting steadily colder with every minute sneaking down the streets, and her fingers were numb. "Can I come in?" she muttered, already shuffling into the hallway and stopping before coming into the livingroom. She'd caught sight of April and hesitated, narrowing her eyes.

"Angel?" said Casey. He'd noticed her dour expression. "Hey, what's eatin' ya, kid?"

She wasn't sure she could trust April completely, even though she'd met her before at the Christmas parties the Turtles had thrown in the past three years. She kept her head low and the breath in her chest warm. She'd better say it quickly, while the wavering in her voice was stifled. "...Granma's dead."

"_What_?" she averted her face to the wall, head still bent so she couldn't have to look anyone in the eye. "Whadaya mean, dead? When?" She heard April stand up quietly, but shakily. Casey pressed her. "Angel, are you serious?"

"She didn't die of old age, if that's what you're assuming." She shifted her weight, but couldn't stop her tone from hardening. "She was killed. The police found a Butterfly knife with _their _symbol on it...the Purple Dragons." Casey started, outrage crossing his features. "They didn't stab her, so the crapheads who examined her think she had a dumb heart attack. Just like her, too," said Angel, choking out a scoff.

Neither of the adults moved. It was an awkward pause, both of them struggling to come up with something to say. But what? It wasn't her fault? It'd be okay now that she'd told them? This was too fast for Casey to handle. He tried tentatively putting a hand on her shoulder. "Look..."

"I just wanted to let you know, okay?" The hand was roughly shoved off. "Just don't want you comin' down our street anymore lookin' for pie. 'Cause I won't be there starting tomorrow."

For the first time April noticed the small green backpack the now-fifteen year old was fingering. She took a step forward. "What are you planning to do?"

Angel eyed her warily. "I'm heading outta town. I know exactly where I'm going."

"What about your brother?" Casey asked suddenly. "Couldn't he come pick you up and take care of you? You can't go screwing around on your own. I mean, you've seen how far you've gotten down _that _route..."

"That was a long time ago! Don't lecture me!" snapped Angel. "And my brother just got into college now. With money so tight as it is lately, he can barely afford ta keep himself alive, even mooching off of his roomate. So I can't bug him." She caught sight of April's skeptical look."I can take care of myself!"

"Quit it," said Casey sternly. She was a little taken aback; she'd never heard him really sound like a grown-up, and it threw her off. "Then you can take care of yourself while you stay here at my place till I find somewhere for you ta be." She opened her mouth to protest. "I don't wanna hear any crap you're gonna spew. You don't hafta say yes right now, and even if ya say no it won't matter, but at least think about it till the game's over." He broke out into a wide beam. "Didja hear? Giants vs. Cowboys."

"Huh?" Both April and Angel said incredulously. Leave it to Casey to switch gears that fast. April sighed, putting a hand over her face, but said, "Well, Angel, there's no harm for you in staying for the game. When that's over we can talk about this again, okay?" She watched the girl's hands clench and unclench, interpreting it as nervousness. "Come on. I brought some chips, and I'm sure Casey has some soda in the fridge. I'll go get some."

"What're you goin' on about? Soda is for pus--" April shot him a look. "I mean, yeah, there should be some in the fridge."

"Why don't you go get some then?" As Casey reluctantly complied, April heard a consistent tapping at the window. She walked across the room and pulled back the curtains, revealing Raph sitting on the narrow ledge, sai handle against the glass. He looked surprised to see her, then beckoned for her to pull up the window. She did so, looking back over her shoulder to check if Angel hadn't bolted out of the door, but she was still in the hallway, seemingly mulling over what had been said so far.

April let Raph in, and he stood there, hands on his hips, taking tock of the situation. He seemed cheerful; he always did when sports were involved. "I didn't know you liked football, April. You haven't come over to see any other games. This one must be important, huh? Lemme guess, though, yer not gonna say who you're rootin' for." He noticed Angel. "Hey, Angel! Haven't seen you around lately. How ya been, kid?"

Angel didn't answer. She looked at April. "I'm going to the bathroom," she said, and edged her way carefully around them to get to it.

Raph looked to April bemusedly. "What's up _her _butt?"

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Angel sat on the toiletseat, doubled over. She felt sick. Sick because she knew she needed a good long cry about Grandma and she knew April was probably telling Raph all about it and now that he knew he'd tell the other guys and they'd stop talking whenever she entered the room. She needed a new plan. No, she needed to find a way to get out of Casey's place and follow the first plan. They wouldn't be able to track her down; good thing she hadn't told them where she was going. But then again, she herself didn't know. Maybe another big city, like Boston. Yeah, Boston might not be so bad. But she'd have to get a map and everything, and she'd prefer to stay in the state. That left Rochester or Albany for densly populated places she could blend into.

As for how she'd get there, she'd hitchiked before plenty of times, and she could figure out what to do about food and a place to stay when she got there. It was doable, she assured herself; kids her age did it all the time... at least back in the books they did. When was the last time she had read a book, anyway? She sighed at at the pathetic attempt to distract herself.

Anyway, she decided ruminating on the toilet wasn't as productive as usual, and stood to scrub her hands. She listened to the noise outside, determining that it was loud enough to mean the game was on. Once she could hear Casey and Raph yelling their enthusiasm for a move, she pushed the door open and silently made her way to the edge of the couch. Unfortunately that seat was taken by April and since Angel felt she couldn't count on the red-heared woman to scoot over and make it easy, she settled for plopping herself down in the space between her and Raph.

Things went fine until the commercial break. The Cowboys had just gotten a spectacular touchdown, so Casey was complaining to Raph, who was agreeing moodily. In a moment's silence, he hesitated, then turned to Angel. "Right?" At her blank look, he added, "You don't think then Cowboys could ever beat us, right?"

She blinked. "Well they must have a fair shot if they've gotten this far, right? It's pretty late in the season."

"Traitor." He gave a mock snort of disappointment.

"Whatever." She looked down at her lap and put her hood up. she didn't see April and Casey trade glances. Her mouth was dry. She swallowed.

April nudged her hand. She held out a cup with a fizzing brown liquid. "Pepsi?" she asked, receiving it gratfully and taking a sip. Then she made a face.

"Sorry, Casey only had this weird type called Shasta. You ever had Shasta?"

"No. Augh, this is _nasty_, Casey, why d'ya have it?"

"It kinda grows on ya. Just ask Raph," he said, playfully shoving the darkly grinning turtle. Then he frowned. "And it tastes _fine_."

From that point on, the ice was broken. She didn't identify herself with either team, but she recognized brilliant plays and made her disgust clear at bad ones. She joined in with the howling accompanying every score and drop of the ball. She winced every time someone was tackled with over the adequate force. Her vision was starting to get blurry, so she leaned closer to the screen, not noticing the bobbing of her head. It was the fourth quarter, and the scores were close, so the feel of the moment was intense. Angel wondered, leaning so far she was tipping over: Had she ever asked Granma which team she supported?

She hit the floor, the edges of her sight closing in with blackness. Dimly she heard the volume on the TV lower and F-cleff, gruff voices murmering with the woman's... O'Neil's... mixed in, giving out instructions. Then Casey's gloved hands cradled her, treating her like his own niece, she thought irritably, and she was carried to a warmer room, placed on a bed, and rolled into a sheet like Granma would do to her as a child. Vaguely she realized that her plan was shot now, and closed her eyes.

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"Geez, April, how much booze didja give her?" Or did ya mix 'em up?"

"No I didn't Casey," she answered with a sigh, leaning against the counter in his kitchen. Raph stood by the entrance, Casey opening and closing the fridge in a frenzy. "All I did was slip some Nyquil into some of your beer. Of course, it didn't help that everything you have is so potent to begin with..."

Raph spun his sai in a small, tight whirl. "You know she's gonna try to get out as soon as she wakes up." He pointed to Casey. "Toss me a can, will ya?"

The off-duty vigilante obliged, pitching it over April's head, then bent to get one for himself. He took a swig, not meeting his or her eyes. "Yeah, I know, but what am I s'possed ta do about it? I mean, it was her _Granma_. I dunno how to talk ta her, and--that's besides the point. What about school? And the cops'll be looking for her maybe, once they look over her Granma's place. And hey, d'ya think that--"

Raph nodded. "You told me she said the Purple Dragons were there, freaked her granma into a heart attack. But those thugs only target people with things of value, and I don't think she fits the category. Plus, if it happened in the neighborhood..."

"You think Angel was being targeted?" April asked incredulously.

"I'm saying it's a possibilty." He gulped a mouthful down and shrugged. "I dunno for certain. Seems like a slim chance, but still."

"I'll go check it out tonight," said Casey determindly. "The cops should be outta there by eight, so I'll pull in by ten in case they leave behind a couple to keep watch."

"I'll come with," said Raph. "You don't even know what to look for, bonehead. The cops'll have left everything the way it was before they came 'cause otherwise it screws with their evidence. If the place is ransacked in any room besides the one that looks like Angel's, it was probably a planned attack."

Her palm cupping her chin, April said, "Where's she going to stay where she won't be able to get off on her own?" They stared. Apparently this hadn't occured to either of them. She rolled her eyes. "Were you both going to just leave her here assuming she'd wake up in a sunny mood, understanding that we were doing this for her own good and sitting here quietly like a--well, like an angel?" They grinned sheepishly. "Guys, what're we going to do?"

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Angel woke up in a grouchy fog. The first coherent thught that trudged through her disgruntled mind was that she couldn't see her heand in front of her face. When she sat up, she immediately noticed the air was extremely damp, but at the same time the room was so stuffy she could only do with small, controlled breaths. She recognized the feeling present when she used to shut herself in the closet to hide. It was an oppressive feeling, she decided, and so she stood up carefully, stretching out her arms to find a wall. She had to get to a door, but she could only feel her way toward it. She felt a cool stone wall come in contact with her hand and let out a relieved breath. Slowly she placed both hands o the wall and made her way down the length of it. She made a point of taking her time in hopes that she could keep her compusure, but with every second she could hear her breath getting more uneven and her fingers tremble more. She sped up her pace, fervently searching for the exact texture of wood. Instead, suddenly a foreign touch was there. It was hard, but pressing on it, she found it was squishy. Almost like a soccer ball. "What the hell?" She marveled aloud.

"Hey kid," came a gruff voice--from directly before her! "Watch yer mouth."

She gasped and took her hands back to her sides quickly. "Raph? Where am I?"

"...Don't get pissed, okay?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Oh, sure. I totally own the license for TMNT, and am completely responsible for the absurdedly cruddy way the cruddy-to-begin-with Back to the Sewers arc ended. In fact, not only was Fast Forward was _my _idea, I'm the one who came up with that nifty catchphrase. You now can trace me to wherever I am and light a cross in my front yard in fan-legion tradition. You have every right to do so.

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"What the heck were you doing standing there in the dark, anyway?" Once Raph had opened the door behind him Angel had pushed past him and promptly fallen on her face in the dim light, which was searing to her eyes compared to the absolute black of the room before. Now she addressed him, pride too damaged to allow her to stand up immediately, criss-crossed applesauce and redirecting her fierce squinting from the light into a hopefully effective glare.

Raph stepped past her smoothly and drifted toward the fridge. "Hey!" she yelled after him. "How rude. Whatta jerk," she grumbled under her breath, and heaved herself up, still blinking copiously. For some reason her head seemed to be pounding with ache, like a mild but longer-lasting brainfreeze. Pressing a hand to her forehead with a moan she tottered after the red-clad turtle, grumbling loudly, "I knew he'd keep me shut up with a loser-pansy-half-assed dirty trick like this. 'Underage' doesn't mean anything to him. Damn Casey!"

"Didn't I say to watch yer mouth while you're here?" Raph's head popped out from behind the fridge door, glaring significantly more fiercly than her squint, though it didn't deter her scowl in the least, she could proudly think. "Splinter's rule. And if _I'm _not allowed to cuss, why should you?" She stuck out her tongue. "Whatever. Just don't get cocky or I'll be more than happy to knock ya down a peg or two. Now I take it you're hungry even if ya don't know it," he mused, turning back to the racks inside. He suddenly plunged his hand in and a split-second later tossed a bag of sweetened bread rolls at her face. "Ya eat anywhere away from the table and you sweep the whole Lair," he said over his shoulder, loping out.

She pitched the bag, after a brief debate, to the table. "Wait a minute!" She strode up to him and gave a little frustrated push to his shell. He grunted. "Why am I _here_? Where's Casey? And that O'Niel chick--"she stopped and narrowed her eyes. "That's right..._she _was the one who gave me something to drink. 'Shasta,' she says! I'll fix _her_..."

"Hey now, you really gotta start watching it this time," Raph warned, turning with a severe expression, one that said "I won't hear any crap from you about April," but instead he said, "You should be grateful, runt."

Suddenly realizing her position, Angel deepened her frown, feeling her face and ears grow hot. "Not like I asked her for help, the busybody," she muttered.

"Whadja say?" started Raph.

"Hi Angel!" came the scratchy, stoner-indicating voice of the one and only Michelangelo, who was kneeling on the couch to face them fully. "How ya been, kiddo? Still think you can defeat the Battle Nexus Champion at Super Smash Bros. Brawl?" He held up a yellow controller and waggled his eye ridges in challenge.

Angel latched onto the bail, masking her gratitude with a mocking grin. "Course I can! Looks like you're asking for total annhilation, buddy! Brought this on yourself!" she strode over and plopped next to him, flashing a gentler smile at an angle so Raph wouldn't see. Mikey shrugged and sustained his wide smile, knowing there could only be so much distraction before what had happened hit her full force. His job, Leo said, was only to keep her occupied while they went to search for clues, but he wondered how long it would be till she picked up on their involvement and made a break for it.

He kept his eyes fixed on the screen and his laugh loud. Raph and Leo should be heading out about now, he thought. "No way!" he squawked as Kirby came to the front of the checkered floor with Bowser clapping grumpily in the back. "First round goes to the newcomer!" he announced just as grumpily as Angel hid an upturned mouth. "Time to get serious!"

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The notorious vigilante of New York (well, only really talked about in the pot-circles of the Purple Dragons) met two of the fan_ta_bulous four at the roof of the apartment building across from Angel's Granma's house. They came silent as wraiths, as always, upon him, as he was stalking back and forth and muttering incoherently to himself. He jolted as one of them stuck out a foot to trip him mid-stamp. "C'mon Raph, not the time!" he snapped, fingering his bat nervously.

Raph gave a small chuckle, sobering up quickly as he saw the one who could be counted on to clown up any situation acting with caution in his gestures; there wasn't room for idiocies on this jolly little trek. Good thing the straws turned out the way they did, he thought. Mikey could have naturally found some aspect of this deadly serious business to Casey funny and things could have turned ugly fast. "What's wrong," he asked, referring to his friend's agitated state.

"Did you see something before we got here?" asked Leo more pointedly.

Casey fiddled with his mask for a moment, seeming to be debating whether or not to have his emotions out in the open. He knew well he was the "heart-worn-on-the-sleeve" type of guy, or rather on face. But his fingers trembled slightly in anger and he dropped his hands in exasperation. "Nothing much. Some scumbag Purple Dragons just dropped by and thrashed the place. I _could've_ gone in there and crashed it, but no, you guys say 'keep quiet', so I just stayed put right here. Watching. By myself, with nothing but that pansyball over there to pretend was a gangbanger's head." He motioned to a corner. Someone had set up a tetherball stand on the roof for the kids living in the complex. The ball was popped open now.

Leo sighed at the paradox before him. "Well then, did you manage, while you were staying put and keeping quiet, to hear what they were here for?" The man squinted.

"Yeah, I guess they were looking for something." They stared. Obviously. "Uh, something small...oh! I remember it had to do with makeup, I guess. A flippy mirror." Again with the blank stares. "It's true!"

"Ok, fine, I'll buy it," said Leo, a hand raised to scratch his head. "A compact mirror, you mean. I think I remember Donnie saying something about codes being transferred from surfaces like glass."

"Doesn't make sense, but I guess it's a starting point," said Raph, trying to be encouraging to Casey. "Now we know it definitely had to do with Angel, and her Granma was just there at the wrong time. Let's get down there already!"

And with that, two silent wraiths and a muttering, clumsy in-comparison-only vigilante slipped across the street and into the ravaged house.

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After fifteen straight rounds of constant slamming, pounding, and spinning screams of defeat, Mike sensed a growing boredom form the purple-haired former-punk. He stretched his arms up and out. "You hungry?" The rolls Raph had offered her still lay on the table behind them. "How about some chow?"

"You go ahead," she said, rubbing her eyes. "I'm more tired than hungry. There any one-player games?" she asked.

He brightened and hopped over to the TV wall directly from the couch. "Yup! We just got this from a garage sale. Lucky!" he chattered as he hooked up a purple Gamecube, something Angel was surprised he had; she'd expected him to have only the latest in video game technology being the "enthusiast" he was. But the Gamecube was _old_. She stared so insistently that he looked up. "This is just what we found, and Donnie fixed it up so it doesn't glitch on the scratched games. We've even got a Nintendo 64 around here."

"And _that _was no picnic," came the light tenor voice of his brother form the computer. Don stood and made his way over, stopping to lean on the back of the couch. "Since it was so old, it would heat up fast if we played too long," he explained to Angel, "so for a while nobody could make much progress on the adventure games like Super Mario or that Zelda-Ocarina one."

"Ah, those were the _old _days," said Mikey, plugging in the same controller Angel had used as second player on the Wii. "Now there's the latest installment for the new generation of faithful gamers!" Soon, on the screen appeared a horseman riding across a bridge in dim pinkish-orange light.

"Twilight Princess," Angel read aloud, then laughed in relief. "I remember playing this at a friend's house. I didn't get very far though."

"You can play on my file," said Mikey. "I've already beaten in zillions of times, so it's okay if you die or something. Here, look, I'm at Midna's Desperate Hour. Oh! It's already inside the tower. You're coming up to a wicked cutscene. Just keep going up the spiral stairs and use the ropes. Don't be afraid to jump at those goblin guys." He reminded her how to work the controls and went to the kitchen. Angel kept the wolf-Link still so she could hear the characteristically gorgeous music of the series. It was piano and just the right tempo, steady and rolling, like jogging. Such a dreamy melody, too! She almost sighed. The pain of this imp character Midna was made clear and piercing in those high, flowing notes. She made her way up the staircase slowly and though the falls were abundant owing to the goblins, when she got back to those points she dealt with them grudgingly and therefore brutally. At the towers she had a bit more trouble, because there was a part where timing was crucial to cross a flimsy, papery bridge, and those monster birds kept coming for her at the most narrow parts. Just when she was at the end of the roof, three of them ambushed her so she would lose her hold scrambling up. But somehow she pushed past them all as she heard Midna let out a fantastic and terrible moan. She raced up the twisted stair case, this one notably intact, heart a bit lighter in her chest, knowing this was the end point and Midna's mortal paleness would soon be cured.

"Wow, you just got here? And there was Mikey, suddenly beside her again, the apparition of cheer and mockery. "You're slow. Oh well, this is my favorite cutscene. It's so sad!" He shuddered and buried his face in her arm jokingly, but Angel was busy reading the text. Not much of it made sense to her, having missed the first half of the plot, but then the tense, achy music which she'd call melodramatic in any other setting came on, and she saw that the hooded figure was making a sort of sacrifice for Midna's sake. The swirl-decorated arms grew transparent with the coming of a blend of violin and xylophone playing Zelda's song mournfully, as the Twilight creature was imbued with her light, Angel realized. "Oh! Oh..." she said, putting her fingers to her lips and turning to Mikey, who grinned and nodded.

"Yeah, that's how I reacted too, when I first saw it. Want me to spoil it for you? She doesn't die, so don't worry. Anyway," he said cheerfully, taking the controller back, "Now we're heading to the Sacred Grove!...as a wolf. Dang! Where were Epona's whistle things? Oh, but I guess I can't blow them... could you imagine a wolf standing on a horse's back?" Angel smiled nervously. So, he was the chattering while doing boring parts type of gamer.

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"What exactly are we looking for?" asked Casey in his usual complaining manner, now that he was calm--as calm as the likes of him could be. They were in Angel's room. Outside of it, the house was virtually untouched, save for the murder scene of Granma, whose body the police had taken away but blood had left for the next day. There were few objects in the house: some photos, one sofa, and a coffee table they used as a regular table for furniture; there was one TV and it was one of those tiny ones apartment managers offer possible tenants for free as an incentive.

The door to Angel's room had been left wide open when they had first arrived. There was a stench in the stale air unrelated to the blood outside; it was the regular smell of dirty laundry neither turtle had come to get used to (but which Casey couldn't detect, being so accustomed to it) mingled with the putrid odors of young, confused and ugly-on-both-sides men, the gangbangers who had been responsible for the scare-death of Granma and those who had returned to help recover something after the police had gone. The room was thoroughly ransacked. The puffy army cot Angel used as a bed had been upturned, the sheets ripped to shreds because the thugs had been running low on time, Leo supposed. A cd rack had been shaken and then tossed aside, the discs split one by one into two, as if just opening the covers wasn't enough. The closet was--well, the closet was cleaned out of the few clothes that had been in it (apparently Angel was keen on accessories but paid less attention to small matters such as clothes-- there was even a dress that came from the childrens' department.). No container was left unemptied. Even the pillowcase had been ripped apart.

"What was that you said about them maybe being low on time?" said Raph.

"There were a lot of them, then," answered Leo tolerantly as usual. He turned the army cot over on its proper side and parked on it, head in hand. "Well, since everything's ended up looking like it's come from a cheese grader, we can assume that whatever they were looking for was pretty small and flat. What would fit that description?"

"Like I said, those flippy mirror things!" insisted Casey, adamant on proving what he had heard being true. At Leo's strained look, he said louder, with pointing of the index finger, "You said you'd buy it! You said you'd give it a chance! How would you even know anyway? _I_ was there!"

"Give it up, man," said Raph, clapping a hand on his shoulder. But sensing the vigilante was more at ease, he grinned widely. "Next you'll be saying the Purple Dragons are getting into the jewelry business."

"That's not so ridiculous," said Leo, darkly. "I mean, the Purple Dragons are all about money. Or how about this: an earring, disguised as a shell protecting a chip containing vital information on whereabouts and plans and such." Casey scratched his head and Raph nodded, but Leo smiled to show that it was only a joking guess. "In any case, has anyone bothered to ask Angel what she thinks they were after? ...Thought not."

Casey began to look grim again. "She prolly has a lot on her mind already, you know," he said defensively.

"I know," said Leo carefully. "But at this point it's really up to her whether or not she'll ever be able to move on in an acceptable way. And she can't stay with us forever, just so _you _know." Raph looked away to avoid Casey's eyes. The man was silent and frowning, his fist setting into a clench.

_Uh-oh, when did this new feeling start to seep in?_ thought Raph, worredly balling up his own fist. It was a feeling almost of betrayal, like when he was young and didn't bother to help Mikey hide the evidence of an afternoon spent sharing between the two of them the treat stash Master Splinter kept hidden for special occasions, and they both ended up caught anyway. He felt himself siding with Casey, and not just to annoy his older brother. There had been more than one time when each brother's moral priorities were revealed, and it was strange; Raph, although the rougher with treating others casually, valued the safety and emotional welfare of people he saw in need, but Leo, the more softspoken and courteous, had shown he thought the general well-being of the public was more important-- the true hurts of the people were likened to details. Being the tough muscle-head he strived to keep the image of, Raph didn't like recognizing this aspect of his personality, but then again it was probably one of the few solid points on his relationship with Casey-- a sort of understanding they had. Angel was precious to Casey. To protect her was, to him, something like...duty, he realized. A tie of duty bound him to Angel. And strong friendships had ties of duty too.

So he said, looking at Casey rather than his brother, "She's staying with us until she decides to wise up and get it into her head that you're just trying to help, however long that could take." This time Leo was quiet, and Raph could tell without looking that his eyes were narrowed. "Anyway, Leo's right on this: it couldn't hurt just to ask her about what this coulda been about. If she starts getting all weepy then," he shrugged, "I guess we'll wait a while. Come on back with us since she knows you better," he suggested, face getting warm with the realization that he was for once playing the role of peacekeeper. He would have spat to clear his conscience if he weren't on such 'holy ground'.

Leo nodded and went out the window quickly and quietly. Casey put his hands behind his head and thrust his chin up, saying, "Heheh, thanks man," and following after. And Raph, in a moment's space for reflection, put a palm to the center of his mask, starting up a feeble but determined chant:

"I'm not a softshell, I'm not a softshell, not a softshell, not a..."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't even have time for this, why am I writing this? I need to be on Fastweb right now! Argh! I'm so lazy! TMNT, by the way, the 2k3, old cartoon, or Mirage version; none of it belongs to me.

I saw Turtles Forever! AAAHH!!! It was—it was…! Just watch it. Please. And btw, I wasn't disappointed except in one instance where the old toon guys did "It's ninja time!", but even then, you know, I kinda got the feeling it fits them a bit better than the new toon.

* * *

The moment Mike got to the puzzle of two guards he groaned and flung the controller to one side of the cushioned couch, admitting defeat. "These parts are the only times I do research, or get Donny to do." He leaned over in a conspiritive fashion. "He keeps saying my games are all a waste of time, but I've caught him in the middle of the night playing on my file—then he purposely won't save it so dobody calls him on it. What a baby. But he's real sensitive, so I don't say anything."

"Must be 'cause he's a tenor," suggested Angel brightly. She didn't much like tenors when she knew them; and the way they waggled their eyebrows more than any other section didn't help their case. Mike cocked his head, which Angel for a split second thought to mean his taking offence. "Er," she fumbled. 'But why would he be offended? It's not like his voice is even classifiable!'

But then he laughed, and she realized he had only stopped to rack his brain for the definition to the term. "Donny hates singing!" he elaborated, then gave pause. "But ya know, Raph's the same type of sensitive." Angel snorted. "He is! Just does well at hiding it. Leo's too much ego to be so self-conscious."

"I can believe that," said Angel with as far from an instigating tone as she could. Before she could shift the subject to a less loaded subject as personality flaws, her stomach let out a yowl.

There came to be a mad glint in the eye of the assumed youngest turtle. "I make a mean over-easy egg," he pressed. Angel was ready to remind him Casey had heard Raph say he'd never succeeded the feat once in his life—and remained ready as he casually chattered a steady blockade of soap opera gossip while frying two, then tossing one, then shooting for another, then deliberately plopping three eggs into the pan—none of which amounted to anything so glorious as a bubble. Angel peacefully munched the salty gobs with as much grace as was appropriate in her host's domain. Mikey gulped his portion down and went back to the T.V. She heard the news theme blare on, was mildly surprised a turtle like Mike had it as his first choice, then serruptitiously dumped the liquid sludge down the drain and went back to the living room quietly.

* * *

The two more headstrong turtles chose that moment to enter, both striding with long steps and quick movement, each trying covertly to come in first. It ended at a tie, but then they both made for the couch and sat on either side of Angel; Mike had seen them coming and dove away without a sound. "What's happened so fare?" asked Raphael gruffly, and Angel thought there was no way the same sensitivity ran beneath the skins of both sweet-toned Donny and dark bass Raph.

"Nothing much yet; they're getting through the shopliftings and cr—stuff like that first," she answered, suddenly remembering that Splinter was also about. Her everyday language would be shameful in this setting. Looking to neither side, she asked offhandedly, "I thought Casey was with you guys…?"

Raph leaned his head on his hand, gesturing he'd let Leo answer any further interrogations. The eldest complied. "Casey didn't want to argue, he said. I think…" he said, not turning his eyes from the screen as she did to briefly evaluate his expression. "He's worried you're mad at him for getting you safe instead of letting you run off to nowhere fast."

She leaned back into the couch and sighed through her nose, feeling very picked on. "Figures you guys'd not even try to see it my way."

"Figures you wouldn't even be grateful to him for stopping you from making the _second_ biggest mistake of your life," jumped in Raph, then clammed up again with strikingly immature apathy to her disgusted face.

"Angel," Leo warned quietly. "We're only helping. We can't hold your hand, but we'll keep you away from your position as a target as long as we can." She didn't say anything, but he knew she was watching for a snuck glance she could take and mold into whatever meaning she could. He stared straight ahead.

* * *

Above ground, in a projects district where the youth reigned where it counted, a short adult figure in a pullover hoodie and a small child dashed across blocks and ducked into alleys when they could. The taller figure would sometimes stop in an alleyway, pull back the kid, and insist on practicing motionlessness while listening with paranoid intensity. At other times they stopped simply to rest; the child's legs were short. "Carol—" began a little boy's scratchy treble voice.

'Carol' cut him off. "We can't say much at all right now," she said and although her voice was low it clearly gave the impression of youth.

"What—" said the boy in a subdued volume, "what happened back there? I've seen those kind of guys before; they're gangsters! But I thought nobody like that had anything to do with Mom anymore…" He looked up beseechingly at the girl, dirty brown hair stiff out of the backward placed hat's hole.

She wilted a little, not facing him. "It—it had nothing to do with her. They were trying to get at—" she stopped. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she asked sharply, "Tyler, are you cold?"

Though what was said could just as easily be taken for genuine concern, and likely it really was, Tyler shrugged off her hand with all the violence his tired state could muster: "You're changing the subject!" He squinted to punctuate. "And you're hiding something! I'll find out!"

"Don't threaten me," she muttered tiredly, and shook herself to wake up. Looking Tyler carefully in the eye, she said, "It's been two days now; I'm thinking we could probably get to my friend's house and pick something up. After that we'll be fine, okay? So just keep up and don't look anyone you see in the face."

Tyler nodded and followed her obediently. He didn't say so, but he had a hung she was leaving out her plan to drop him off at the same place they were hading to. He immediately began formulating a plan of his own…which immediately led him off into a happy bunny trail culminating with the notion of rubber bands…

* * *

Angel bolted upright on the couch, her posture now matching Leo's. Raph made an obvious effort to maintain his unassailable slouch; his attention was as caught as the others'. On the news for all of Manhattan to ruminate on was Angel's former place of residence. The reporter was a new guy with a puffy black jacket, whose dandruff and sweat intermingled freely on camera. "…the police were alerted of the mishap by an anonymous call at 4:27 a.m. At the scene of the crime was the body of Ms. Peretti, an elderly widow and legal guardian of high school student Angel Peretti, who is as of now a ward of the state. Anyone with information on her whereabouts should contact…"

She gulped, her face blanching and fingers moving restlessly. As usual when she became nervous, unreasonable rage came over her. She fixed a brutal glare on the last to lecture her, naturally being Leo. "I could've been out of the state by now. I hope you know that! But no, you just can't help yourselves from helping!" She scowled. Leo nearly fell into the trap of retorting with a frown; instead, he shushed her gently and turned his face away, taking on a somehow more pristine version of Raph's position.

The news had moved on to a more gruesome case. Leo had been ready to snatch the remote, but Angel unexpectedly gasped, "Isn't that--?" The displayed picture was of an apartment complex ransacked, then a portrait photo of a homely-looking woman, and next to it another photo of a small boy, his hair dirty blonde and face twisted into a fine grimace teachers just love. The reporter related the facts concisely: "Landlady Sybil Dillard received a complaint from one of the renters that a compact group of juveniles resembling the gangster stereotype had entered an apartment space without checking into the area. They then apparently forcefully entered the room of Irma Lundgren. The police found the body of Lundgren on the kitchen floor, determined cause of death is by a Butterfly knife; one detail noted was the fact that the tongue was cut out. What this symbolizes is still to be interpretated.

"Police are still on the lookout for Lundgren's eight year old son, Tyler Lundgren. Persons with information on his whereabouts should contact the Child Protection Services at…"

Angel was horrified. She smacked Leo's bicep to gain attention; this was _important_. "I know that kid! Leo, that kid is, Tyler is my friend's cousin!" He stared at her, nonplussed. She tried slowing down, and as she did, she found herself thinking more cohesively than she would if she hadn't. "I remember my friend telling me that Tyler said once, around last year…do you remember that one report about a specific gang in New York, one that was supported well by the reporter's recordings presented? That was Tyler's mom. He told my friend that they were having a lot of trouble this one day 'cause the gang found out and had kidnapped his mom and was going after him too…

"You know," she said, recalling just how strange it had sounded from her friend when she had first heard it—but more than strange, it was alarming. "She started to say that the way he'd gotten out of it all was pretty amazing. He said he had made a friend of some sorts, who just showed up at the right time. But when she asked him about the guy, Tyler got all secretive on her, said she wouldn't understand." By this time Leo was very much interested and had his full attention focused to her. She knew what he was thinking; she'd dabbled in the theory little enough. "Now do you think this guy was just a rare occurance, a kind stranger, or…"

His face was grim. He gave a barely perceptible nod. "I see somebody had somewhere else to be all of a sudden as soon as you started talking."

It was true; Raph had gone.

* * *

And he was currently running along the buildings of Baker Street, heading toward the address he had memorized the moment he had seen it come on the news. He'd nearly had a heart attack when he saw Tyler's face come on, with the same nasty and completely uncute expression he remembered so well. He stayed just long enough to hear the sickening details of what took place and Angel begin to describe whatever she knew, and then he was out of there. Come to think of it, he might well have stayed to hear what she had to say, but the despicable nature of the murder had triggered such a surge of fury that he knew he had better not even try to stay still.

He slowed his pace on the rooftop and stopped, figuring out his bearings from there. The neighborhood was familiar to him. In fact, just a little farther ahead would be Angel's house, and then he would have to turn right from there, and crossing the street could be a little problematic. You just never knew when somebody would happen to have a late-night errand too, and for some reason it grated on the nerves subtly more than run-ins with people during the day. That was probably because at night people tend not to have expectations and schedules, and begin to view it as 'their time'. The atmosphere has quite an effect, he thought, approaching the street.

Before he descended via drainpipe, though, he did a quick check to see who was coming his way…and caught his breath. He saw a heavily cotton-guarded figure that was still obviously enough a teenager, leading by the hand a small kid who wore his hat backwards. He was sniffing because of the cold, but otherwise trying to be quiet and helpful in their journey. To the first figure's credit, they were going at a slow, easy pace; both had shoulders slouched and dragging feet. Now if only Raph could catch a glimpse of the kid's face. If he was sure, there would have to be something he could do. He thought of alerting somebody at the Lair with the Shell-Cell, but those two were too close; he wanted to get a good vantage point to get nice clarity.

Fortunately, they had been walking on his side of the street, and it looked like a rest was in favor. The taller figure was making soft and low sounds, as if affecting to soothe the kid, but its demeanor seemed agitated to his trained eye. He focused harder on hearing the conversation, and was mildly taken aback to distinguish that the elder was female; well, either that or a guy with Don's average pitch minus the breathy quality. And the kid…yep, that was Tyler all right. Scratchy, but not the type to piss you off.

Tyler was busy voicing deep displeasure. "You're just gonna dump me here and go do something without letting me in on it!" he whisper-shouted at her reprimand.

"It's not like that." The voice sounded beyond tired. "And now I'm not even sure what I'm going to do with you. I thought this would be a safe place for you, but look. Do you see?"

"It's—it's the fuzz!" Raph stifled a chuckle.

"What the heck've you been watching, anyway…" murmured the voice. "Anyway, now I guess I should try getting you to some other place."

Tyler looked unhappy. "You're just getting rid of me."

Unsaid frustration now seemed to burst as loud as it could be also hushed from the unfamiliar figure. "Can't you see I'm just trying to keep you safe? Will you just do what I say and believe me when I say you'll be better off not hanging around with me!"

"Does whoever we're hiding from know Mom was hanging around you?" Tyler asked quietly. The girl stiffened. He went on, letting his anxiety slip out his voice as well. "When we got back from the park there were cops around home too. Carol—" He looked fiercely into her face. "Is Mom okay?"

"I don't know," said Carol, whose face was still concealed. Now she spoke in a monotone. "Honest. I don't know if you're mom's okay or if they've gotten her, or if they've done the same to Angel…" Uncharacteristically to Raph as of yet, she choke, her throat tightening. "All I know is what they're looking for and now, now that they've gotten to Angel… it's over." Then she got an edgy accent to her words. "Tyler, let's move. Somebody's gotta know about what's going on, and it can't be just the police—they're _in_ there. Come on—"

"Is that—" Tyler broke in before she could pull on his hand. He was staring over her shoulder as if he was seeing a ghost, and slowly stretching a grin. "It is really you?"

Raph had just dropped to the sidewalk. He flashed the kid a grin wider than any human could accomplish. "Yep. Is that really the same stupid hat?" Tyler laughed and took a step forward, but Carol snagged his shirt.

She thought quickly, he gave her that. "Don't tell me you're that guy from the tapes incident, or I just might go crazy right here."

Tyler answered in the affirmative. "This is Raph, he's the one who helped me save Mom that time. Are we gonna save her again, Raph?"

"Yeah, Superman, we gonna save her?" said Carol. He let that one slide. She was testing his personality, seeing what kind of stuff he wouldn't take.

"Tyler, buddy, how long have you been out here, huh?" He walked slowly and unthreateningly to them and with a deft movement removed Carol's hood, taking only a half second to note her dirty blond hair in rough bangs and a low, somehow bushy like a coyote tail, ponytail. He did this casually, though, and faced Tyler only, knowing what he didn't and a sinking feeling coming upon him.

"A long time!" said Tyler. "Yesterday we went to the park and came back and saw the cops in the front and Carol said we should just go to the police and then we went for all night to the police station and then Carol said she knew one of them and didn't wanna talk to them and then we came here…And then we saw you." Little kids had such clarity it could be startling. "Where have _you_ been?"

Carol said with a slightly more respectful tone, "Would you know if there's been any story in the news around those apartments? It'd be on a Lundgren. Is she all right?"

Raph caught her eye when Tyler was distracted. She paled but fixed her expression quickly for the kid. Raph without warning swung the boy over his shoulders and onto his shell, thinking to himself he was lucky the kid was naturally light-boned and of slighter stature as he laughed. "What would you two say to some pizza at my place, huh?" He could now give Carol the serious look he needed to with Tyler's perception out of the way. "Then we'll talk some more, but for now Carol here had the right idea about keepin' quiet, 'kay?"

* * *

A/N: So sorry about the OC, you guys. I tried not to pin descriptions down on her so that people wouldn't feel tired by the end; I hate it when authors describe everything from their accessories to the logo on the shoes. Yes, Tyler is the Tyler of Lone Raph and Cub, because it has to be one of the first episodes I ever saw. "Oh yeah?" "Yeah." "OH YEAH?!" Absolute. Awesomeness. I named his mom Irma because I heard somewhere she looks like Irma of the first cartoon series and because it happens to be the name of one of my tîa. So far it's been a night and a day since the first chapter, and this ends on the second night. Not much happening, huh? Oh well. R & R if you have the time, plz.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** You know what? I've already done three of these- why should I keep doing them? I'm gonna just stop with them, if that's all right-just as long as everyone's clear I've claimed nowhere ownership of the franchise-btw, isn't a shame Nickelodeon of all companies has the rights now? CGI? Dang!

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The Lair ws quiet. Mike making the shrewd choice to keep his distance was the main cause. Under normal circumstances, a quiet Lair was tense-it was the first indication of unease in the ranks. At this point in time the circumstances could not exacly be called normal, but the same effect seemed to apply nonetheless.

Finally, Leo, driven by the goosebump sensations (which incidentally never appeared outright on his skin) running up his arm, turned to Angel with rapidly waning patience. "Quit staring at me, I don't know anything you don't at this point," he said cordially enough, edge of mouth muscles straining.

"Raph seems to know something."

"Raph has a lot of business he keeps to himself." He was regretting he had taken the initiative of turning off the tube. Now neither of them could pretend focus elsewhere. "There have been billions of times he's gone topside without one of us with him, or even knowing he was out; we don't keep tabs on eachother too closely because we trust eachother. I trust him. He's got common sense." Leo could have laughed his spleen into oblivion with the irony; he only prayed Mikey wasn't lurking nearby with a recorder. Angel's lips didn't budge. She slouched into the sofa, utterly enervated sudenly despite her steady inactivity all day.

It was all out of her control. It wasn't what she was thinking once she had determined to get out of state; the cherished dream of freedom in the shaking off of adult supervision shackles had long dissipated. Because since the moment she rushed out of the sweaty dust-infested room she had had company-a _guard_-she couldn't bear this indignity. Crushed by unseen pressure. She felt, with a surge of raw self-righteousness-enabling indignance, that this complacent do-gooder, this charitable perfection, this prick of a turtle sitting beside her had expectations. Well, she wouldn't cry, whatever happened; not the time, never the time when sentients are creeping about.

From Leo's perspective she was behaving like an insensate ass, brooding darkly at such an unopportune time-a specialty of Raph's. How unattractive. It was why Raph failed to gratiate himself with others, where Mikey could (mostly...on second thought, he wasn't very popular at all with those who really got close enough to hear what he was saying). Neither of these two, thought Leo, see the value in strategic connections-outside of battle, that is. He turned to face her, with intentions of admonition, when Master Splinter chose that moment to quietly and regally enter the room. "Master Splinter-" said Leo quickly, not remembering if someone had told the details of Angel's situation to the elderly rat.

"Hi, Splinter!" Angel brightened immediately and straightened up to smile at the rat for good measure. Maybe I was wrong about that strategic connections theory, thought Leo. The former gangbaby wasn't slow enough to miss who was really in charge.

"Good evening." Splinter smiled back gently, in his typical grandfather manner, it seemed to Angel. The rat seemed so old, so frail sometimes, she found it difficult to call him the Turtles' father in her mind. Prolly cuz my own parents weren't even voting age, she thought disgustedly, holding her smile in place while learning on the sofa back. She suddenly became aware of a whole different kind of furry tickling her cheek.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, drawing herself away for a complete look. A healthy, if smug-looking, orange tabby arched his back at the attention. "This's gotta be that cat Mikey showed up with at Christmas! What was his name- Klunk! He Klunk! Hey buddy!" She rubbed roughly on the cat's head and smirked. Klunk realized his mistake and bolted away without delay. "It's been so long since I've been down here, I didn't think you'd grow so much." She looked to Leo, only so she wouldn't be talking to herself. "The cat we had was outdoor-indoor, but for all his travels he was still a fat hippo last I saw him. Stupid thing, too. Couldn't even seem to smell the catnip. Wonder if he'll be okay on his own..."

"Cats aren't stupid," said Leo, "Mikey'd say if he heard you."

"Though they may show tendencies toward evil," interjected Splinter, making the two smooth-skinned bipeds (that about summed up all they had in common) smile.

"Nah, this guy was really stupid. Even Casey knows what's good for him, but this one time I saw Gir staring up the telephone post, at the wires, and then he-"

"Raphael," said Splinter sharply. "Who are your guests?"

Plodding sheepishly into the Lair with two small hands clutching his shell as Raph. Leo stood angrily: "You idiot-" But he caught Splinter's disapproving glance and shut his mouth tightly. His offending brother went to his room bearing a small boy, the sight of whom sent Angel into an agonizing process of wracking her brain- she _knew _the kid.

"You too," snapped Leo, bringing her attention to the shape of a person bordering the Lair, clearly reluctant to comply to the eldest turtle's whim. She squinted at it, but her mind still raced to identify the little boy with the hat on backwards, and even as Raphael came back quietly into the room and the shadow, reassured, stepped forward to reveal herself, she jumped to her feet beside Leo, ramrod straight.

"Carol!"

The bushy-haired blond winced and looked unsteadily at the floor as she bolted across the room with intentions to bear-hug. But the strange expression on her friend's face slowed Angel, and once she stood before her there was a definite awkwardness between them. Angel held her breath, then, feeling the onerous stares of Leo and Raph on her back, realized it was up to her to solidify the trustworthiness of this newcomper. The girl was stiff and trying desperately not to meet her eyes. Angel broke into a strained grin and punched her arm lightly. She didn't flinch.

"Raph," said Angel, being considerate of the setting, "where the heck didja find her?"

"Heading away from your place," he answered gruffly, arms folded.

"Do you know them, Angel?" Leo, she could tell, was trying to the best of his abilities to keep his frustration in check. He'd just love to have them both strapped into a chair in a dark room with a hanging light, she knew, and the sad part was that if it were him and Raph doing the interrogation, she didn't know which of them would be the bad cop.

"She's my friend from school. Done a lot of stuff together. Helped me out of some real deep sh- places," she mended hastily, glancing to Splinter, who remained staid and silent, both hands on his walking stick. As an afterthought, she added, "Her name's Carol."

Mike entered, whistling, large comic book stack in tow. Evidently he had thought to drag Angel into all his favorite fandoms before serious conversation intervened in the process. The mischevious smile he wore fell, and he slowed, seeing Splinter standing so solemn. He approached the two girls with a determind glint in hes eye, and Angel knew he felt it was up to him to lighten the atmosphere once again. If it was at his own expense, so be it.

He tossed his arm on her shoulder and addressed Carol. "Hi! What say you about the third Star Wars movie?" He ignored her taken aback expression and insisted, with his eyes narrowed by his wide grin, "The fate of your socks as long as you're here depends on your answer."

"Aw, Mike," groaned Raph, recalling the demise of April's pantyhose- but seeing as no one yet had discovered the remains, he kept quiet before the two authorities in the room could pick up the line.

The girl called Carol's taciturn facade slipped. She glanced to Angel, confused, but was met with a helpless shrug. Their matching lopsided grins encouraged her, though, so she answered truthfully, "I didn't see it; I don't attend excessively melodramatic space-operas if I can help it." Mikey's derisive snort provoked her. "I never much liked the series once #2 came out, and I've heard #3's plot was total crap."

"Dare you insult the greatest movie series ever the grace the planet?" Mike challenged.

"I thought that was Harry Potter." At his mock-livid expression, she added spitefully, "Yes, so dare I."

Leo serruptitiously moved beside Splinter, who coughed for attention. "Please sit down," he said shortly, gesturing to the couch. Angel gripped the slack-jawed Carol's arm and led her there. She saw, peripherally, Don emerge groggily from his lab, take in the situation, and silently go to the kitchen. How unsocial of him, she thought, but couldn't exactly blame him...it was a long, dreary road ahead. Splinter stood in the space before the television wall, with such an air about him Angel thought ridiculously it looked like he were seconds away from bursting into opera-_tonante unt eilend_. Would that I brought my ukukele, she thought, and promptly after that choked aloud on her own spit so that she coughed, sputtered, and in the end called it a hiccup at Leo's pointed look.

Splinter spoke softly. "Carol. Who is the boy sleeping in my son's room?"

Carol, face downcast, answered clearly. "Tyler Lundgrum. My cousin. Second grade. He's sticking with me till I can get him to some relatives or something." Her halting, edgy speech pattern betrayed her nerves, unlike her steady-as-steel alto voice. Angel squeezed her limp hand.

"The son of the murdered Irma Lundgrum, yes?"

"Yes."

"Please look up." She obeyed without hesitating, blinking slowly. "Tell me about your friend and your cousin. Their situations."

She opened her mouth a slit. Don appeared silently from the kitchen with a tea kettle and stacked ceramic cups-must me handy, Angel thought. "I-" Carol licked her lips, brow furrowed. Leo and Raph had moved to flank their master, and the result was a formidible barricade against wandering concentration. Carol plowed ahead, talking over the light sounds of Don arranging tea on the coffee table.

"Angel and I met at school, like she said. Our grandparents knew eachother from church; that's how she met Tyler and his mom. We got till highschool before we started cutting classes. I'm responsible for introducing her to the Purple Dragons." The Turtles all shifted at that. Carol did her best to ignore it. "It was spring when she got out of it, but I'd already been initiated, so there wasn't any way I could do the same without moving across the country. By the way," she said suddenly in a marginally warmer tone to Angel, "It was real smart of you not to tell them where you lived. They would've done something about you a lot sooner, hocky mask freak and pals or no. Anyway," she resumed languidly. "Soon after that they were in a couple different plans with the Foot Clan, but those of us not competent in fights-"

"Er, that would be all of them, right?" interjected Mikey irrepressively.

"Sh, Mike, the story's going somewhere!" said Angel

"No, that's true enough," conceded Carol wryly.

Mike nudged Don. "She's a keeper, I can tell."

"Well, nearly all of the girls, anyway, and those specialiing in electronics had a separate project. It was finished a couple months ago, and having dropped completely out of school I was there to see most of it. I had complete access to it whenever I wanted because of a correct suggestion I made in its earlier stages. Once it was complete and the test target was chosen, I waited a few days and took it."

"Why'd you wait until then?" asked Raph, arms still folded.

Leo, in similar stance, asked earnestly, "Who was the target supposed to be?"

"I waited till it was complete because that would be when they most needed to keep it secret," said Lauren graciously. "And the target was you four."

"Thought as much," muttered Don.

"What'd you do then?" asked Mike curiously, heeding Angel and getting into the story.

"I knew giving it to the authorities wouldn't do anything, and moore importantly, get me in the slammer. I panicked. I must've had a bonk to the head, but-it's stupid-well, I figured if anyone could do something about it, it'd be those same guys that saved Casey's ass that time." She was so nervious by now her face was lowered again, facing her jittery fingers so that she didn't see the Turtles flinch at the unnessassary word. "I went to Angel's hous and but it on her bed."

"Is this true, Angel?" Splinter asked quietly.

Angel, abrubtly involved in the interrogation, felt the giddyness gained at the sight of her friend fade that quickly. "Yea-yes, I found an earring and a noe on my bed one morning, not even a week ago. The note said something like: 'This is from me. Give it to those funy friends of your friend.'"

The Turtles looked at Carol. "I hadn't slept that night! Gimme a break!' She almsost said, but actually coughed. "Th-then I went to Tyler's ouse, since Iknew by then they'd know it was me. I ws jut gonna spend the night there..." Her pitch dropped, and her eyelids drooped. "In the morning the news bulliten at the bottom of the screen told me about Angel's granma."

"How is it that you weren't there, Angel?" asked Leo.

"I decided Carol had given me something big, even if it didn't look special," said Angel, pickiing at her nails. She was beginning to feel more and more ashamed. "I told Granma I'd be at the lock-in at church-"

"You used church to lie?" asked Carol, trying feebly to lighten up the darkening mood. Raph decided not to comment.

"And hit it where no Purple Dragon would be caught dead. By the time I got back home, though, it was around 2 am, and she was already..." Angel's lips compressed briefly. "They hadn't found my money stash, so I took that and got outta there quick. I screwed around in Central Park till morning, went to a bookstore till around three, and then went to Casey's to let him know I'd be heading out of town." Against her better judgement, she added, "Feh-wouldn't have bothered if I knew he'd turn me in that quick."

Before the heaviness of the atmosphere could swallow up further speech, Mike prodded Carol. "What were you doing yesterday, then?"

She was finding it harder to speak. She blinked slowly, but kept her head still. "They worked fast. Around four a.m. Tyler and me woke up. They were at the door talking and Irma was packing Tyler's things. I'd gotten him out of there before they got in, but... she stayed behind. I went back in after they left, took out the lookout guy and stuffed him in the laundrey chute. I figured the police might start connecting the dots, but they're useless as ever," she said bitterly, with an upturned mouth.

Raph didn't move. "Does Tyler know about his mom?"

"I didn't tell him out loud. He hasn't seen or heard the news, either." She sighed. "He knows, though. He's smart. I should tell him why it's happened soon..."

"This project," Don spoke up abruptly. "The device itself is disguised as what, again?"

"An earring," answered Carol.

"Oh no!" said Angel, bringing a hand swiftly to her mouth in an uncharacteristically feminine gesture. "I only noticed after it was too late to go back that I'd hid it in a place that's cleaned regularly."

"How regularly?" pressed Don.

"Tomorrow's Saturday-the janitors and volunteers will be there in the afternoon so it'll be clean for evening service." She caught Carol stirring and smirked halfheartedly. "So no, I didn't use church to lie. Shame on _you_."


End file.
